


For Nostalgia

by 1AbbyNewth5



Category: A Heist With Markiplier, Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A brief mention of Damien and Celine, Bittersweet Ending, Claustrophobia, M/M, Nostalgia, Other, Takes place after 'The Interview' ending, missing pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 03:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21469438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1AbbyNewth5/pseuds/1AbbyNewth5
Summary: Dark tries to find Wilford’s pants, but finds something completely different.
Relationships: Wilford Warfstache/Darkiplier, darkstache
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	For Nostalgia

“**Wilford, I have a very important question for you.**”

“Yes?”

“**Where the fuck are your pants.**”

Wilford was being very indecisive that day. It took him half an hour explaining why he couldn’t find his favorite pants with a bunch of side stories that had absolutely nothing to do with Dark’s question. Or maybe Wilford just didn’t want to wear pants and he wanted his story to sound interesting. It all concluded to him not getting fired, so that’s a… plus?

“**Can you tell me ** ** _why_ ** ** you didn’t want to go without pants today?**” Dark asked. Wilford felt offended.

“I just told you, I couldn’t find my favorite pair! What, you don’t believe me?”

Dark put his palms together. “**Precisely.**”

“I’ve looked through my closet for _ hours,_” Wilford pouted. “None of my other pants fit me, that’s all.”

“**You just wanted to go waist-down clothless,**” Dark replied flatly.

“Not true!” Wilford exclaimed, pointing down at his feet. “I’m wearing socks!”

** _At least he’s wearing ‘boxers’ too, _ ** Dark thought, trying not to look. ** _But it doesn’t explain why he doesn’t have his real damn pants on._ **

_I am innocent, I swear~_ Wilford made a smug face while looking at Dark without his lips moving.

** _Sure you are._ **

“**Why don’t I look through your closet and find your pants ** ** _myself,_ ** ** Wilford?**” Dark asked out loud.

Wilford’s face flinched, exclaiming “No!” before covering his mouth with his hand. Dark’s face stiffened.

“**Why not?**”

Wilford cleared his throat and chuckled, waving his hand around his face. “O- Oh, you wouldn’t like my closet, Dark. You wouldn’t like my whole room at all! It gets so messy and _ everything _ is _ everywhere- _ Oh! And it’s _ so cramped! _ We both know how much you _ hate _tight spaces!”

“**I was ** ** _just_ ** ** in your room three days ago, Will,**” Dark’s tone lowered. “**It was ** ** _perfectly_ ** ** clean since then.**”

Wilford scritched his chin. “Y- You know me, Dark. I see no mess, so I _ create _ the mess!”

“**And I’ve been in worse situations when it comes to tight spaces,**” Dark added. “**I’m pretty sure your exit-able closet is more tolerable than a broken-as-all-hell elevator that we never use.**”

“When you mean ‘we’, you mean you, cuz you’ve _ never _ used it since that incident-”

“**I know what I meant.**”

Wilford huffed and crossed his arms. “Well, I’ve got some things that are super important in my room! What does it take to not disrespect a man’s privacy around here?”

** _I’m fairly certain you don’t even know the half of it._ **

Dark eyed behind Wilford, and spotted the Captain Magnum near Wilford’s gun, that was quite dangerously lying on the counter.

“And who cares if I don’t have pants on?! I’ve run around like a moron without them during an interview before, and nobody seems to remember it!”

Dark pointed over Wilford’s shoulder. “**Oh hey, Wilford, look. The Captain is touching your gun without your permission.**”

Wilford gasped and gripped at his hair. “WHAT HAPPENED TO COMMON DECENCY?!”

He ran down the hallway with Dark covering the side of his face with his hand. “MAGNUM, DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY BABY!!!”

“It’s _ alive?! _”

Dark smirked, and quickly sent himself inside of Wilford’s room.

Just as Dark suspected, everything in the room was spotless. Only a dozen pieces of sticky notes of doodles and interview questions were scattered all over the floor, but it seemed like they were brushed aside near Wilford’s desk mirror right next to his door. Will’s bed was a mess as well, with the blankets draping over the other and pillows flattened, but Dark thinks he likes sleeping like that anyway. There was also a sparkled up fake fireplace with a rack of colorful suspenders hanging above it as if they’d be stockings, with the red-faded-to-pink pair hanging at the dead center.

** _I’m sure those all won’t overheat and catch on fire. _ **Sarcasm.

Dark bumped into the closet door, seeing that the frame reaches to the very ceiling of Wilford’s whole room. It’s not like Captain Magnum is ever gonna sneak in, why is it so tall? No matter. Dark opened the closet door, only for an avalanche of clothes to fall right on top of him. Not enough to make him stumble over, for Dark is as sturdy as a boulder.

Dark yanked all the clothes off of him, and saw that MOST of them… were shirts. The clothes that were pants though…! Were either stained, torn up, or just straight up too small. Dark _ was _ going to suggest in his head that Wilford could wear his collection of tight shorts like layers, but that’d make him appear too… big.

“**God****_dammit,_ ** ** Will.**”

Dark stepped over the pile of clothes to hesitantly get himself inside of the closet. His head bumps against a light bulb with a pulley-switch next to it. Dark didn’t really need to turn the light on because since he was wearing his new white suit for a change, and he’d practically be glowing more easier that way with his twins’ auras and such.

But just because he can, Dark turned the light on by pulling the switch. The closet was a tiny bit smaller than the elevator he never uses, but at least there’s an escape route. Dark looked around every nook and cranny in the closet to at least find one, _ one _ good pair of pants that isn’t too revealing, and so that Wilford would give in to wearing until he finds his ‘most favorite’ pair soon. But if that doesn’t happen, it could be the goldfish situation where Dark buys or makes the same pair, and Wilford wouldn’t even know the difference.

There was a very tall shelf at the end of the closet, and Dark tried to reach up to the top to grab something, _ any _ thing… only to have a tan round thing fall off and land on the floor. Dust was flying, enough dust for Dark to almost hack and choke on while coughing it all away. And waving his hand around was _ definitely _ helping. “**What the hell-?**”

As soon as the dust died down to the floor, Dark rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. The helmet rolled on its side for a moment, and wobbled near the wall. It was Wilford’s old old old old _ old _pith helmet.

Dark stared at it for a long minute, knowing perfectly well that Wilford wouldn’t remember having this helmet, not even remember being a colonel.

Dark picked the helmet up from the floor, and gently brushed the dust away. He looked up at the shelf. “**He wouldn’t happen to have the rest, would he…?**”

A corner of a sleeve was hanging from the very top of the shelf. To avoid the possibility of getting dust all over the place again, Dark put the helmet down on a lower shelf and stood on his tip-toes, and reached up with both of his hands tugging on edges of old linty clothing. His grip on both edges tightened, and he slowly lifted a neatly folded pile of bright tan clothes off the top of the shelf.

“**No,**” Dark muttered, blinking away dust. “**There is ** ** _no_ ** ** way…**”

Indeed, it was 100% Wilford’s old outfit for when he was a colonel from the early 1900’s. Dark already had questions running through his head. How in the world does Wilford still have this? When did he put it in the closet? _ Why _ does Wilford still have this outfit after all these years, even when he’s so far gone from who he was?

Dark slowly brushed the grime and lint off of a small, silver winged metal that is still pinned on the coat. Same with a red and white metal on the other side.

Dark had no idea where Will’s red ascot went, it probably faded to pink like his suspenders and turned into the bowtie he still wears to this day. And Will’s glasses were _ definitely _ snapped apart, or shattered, or burnt when he realized that even seeing clearly didn’t matter to him anymore. All that is left is the pith helmet, the coat, pants (finally!), and the boots, which were surprisingly very well hidden in the darkness of the bottom shelf. Will shouldn’t have these.

Wilford’s voice from outside of his room gradually got louder, but that didn’t phase Dark at all. He had a few questions to ask. Chances are, Wilford might not know all the answers, but it’s worth a try to ask anyway.

“You may be taller than all of us, but it ain’t gonna phase me, Captain!” Wilford shouted, shaking a fist. “You wanna know why? Cuz Warfstache don’t take no sh(BLEEP!)t from _ nobody! _”

With a slam of his door, Wilford looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I should really fix that swear-detector thing.”

“**Wilford.**”

Wilford hiccuped, seeing Dark standing right in front of him with his hat, boots, and the rest of Will’s outfit in his hands. “Hiiiiiiiii…!”

Dark’s face was frozen in place, stern. “**Care to explain to me what ** ** _these_ ** ** are all about?**”

Wilford was grinning nervously. “W- Well, they’re um- they’re winter clothes!”

“**We live in Ca-**”

“Traveling vacation winter clothes!”

“**You know, depending on how much Mark uses us for projects, we’re technically almost ** ** _always _ ** **on vacation,**” Dark said. “**We’ve never traveled once.**”

Wilford’s face dropped, and Dark took a step forward.

“**So, Wilford,**” he continued. “**What are these clothes here for?**”

“I- I found it in a zoo! I won it for a bet!”

“**_Wilford._**”

“I don’t know!” Wilford exclaimed, throwing fists like a child. “I’ve always had them in my closet! I don’t remember what they’re for, but they give me warm fuzzy feelings, maybe a tiny memory or two.”

“**A bad memory or a good memory?**”

“I dunno, does it matter that much to you?” Wilford asked. “The good and bad don’t matter to _ me, _ cuz they’re useless memories! Memories that’ll come back and disappear from my head like always!”

Dark didn’t know exactly what to say to that. Why would _ he _ care about somebody else’s memories and whether they’d be good or bad? It’s like having someone constantly looking over your shoulder. Sure, Dark has been invasive when it came to Wilford being a pain in the ass, but Dark only did it because he didn’t want Wilford to cause any more trouble than he already did.

Wilford pouted with his arms crossed, and looked down at the floor as if he’s been ashamed of himself… for _ some _ reason. Dark stared down at the pile of clothes in his hands. His grip tightened, and he sighed.

“**I’m sorry, Will,**” he muttered. Wilford blinked at him. “**I didn’t mean to make this appear as a bigger deal than it should be.**”

And all of this started because of _ pants. _

“**Have you…**” Dark continued. “**Worn this outfit lately?**”

Wilford’s frustrated and hurt face softened. “Not in a while, no.”

“**I was just wondering because of how much dust it was collecting,**” Dark’s tone went gentle. “**Have you ** ** _thought_ ** ** about wearing it?**”

Wilford’s hands were gripping on his sleeves loosely. “Kind of.”

Silence filled the room. Dark’s hands leaned forward. “**Here. You can wear it. If you’d like.**”

Without saying anything, Wilford hesitantly held the outfit out of Dark’s hands, and kicked some clothes out of his way as he headed inside his closet. Dark sat down at the edge of Wilford’s bed, waiting patiently.

A moment later, and Dark heard the closet door open. The familiar sound of boots slowly walking on the floor filled the room, and Dark saw Wilford in the entire outfit. He looked the same as he did a long time ago, only the mustache stands out a LOT more now than it did before.

Wilford was still doing the last few buttons of his coat as he left the closet, and Dark just noticed the wearing out on them. The belt around Wilford’s waist was a bit loose, but there was nothing for it to hold anyway.

“**How does wearing all of that make you feel?**” Dark asked.

Wilford’s hands rubbed all over his arms, and he tucked his face in his collar. “Warm, mostly! Gives me a trip of nostalgia.”

“**You know how you said earlier you don’t remember what the outfit was for?**” Dark asked, head tilting. “**Maybe nostalgia is why.**”

The front tip of the pith helmet was hiding Wilford’s eyes, which he did _ not _ like. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t remember a _ whole _ lot, just a few baby pieces.”

“**I see no problem with that,**” Dark replied, smiling gently. His watch hidden in his sleeve beeped. “**Meeting. Wilford, do you want to go dressed like that?**”

Wilford took his helmet off, tossed it on his bed, and ruffled his hair. He and Dark went over to his door. “Why not? It’s cozy and makes me feel good. And I _ did _ find pants so you wouldn’t be staring at me all day~”

As Wilford opened the door, Dark smacked his back. “**Shut up.**”

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda came up with this yesterday and remembered that Wilford still has his Colonel outfit as seen in the Tasteful Nudes calendar, so I'mma jump to the conclusion that it's canon he still has it, cuz it is PERFECT angst material!
> 
> And even though it's just William with a pink mustache, I bet Wilford would look DASHING in this outfit, especially since the pink mustache would stand out a lot more. :3 - Abby


End file.
